


Daze

by heavensweetheart



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst and Romance, Blood, Character Turned Into Vampire, Drama & Romance, F/M, I also would like to clarify I wrote this severely sleep-deprived, I just wanted to recreate the scene, It's just the "let me copy your homework" meme, Kissing, Listen this is completely self-indulgent, Make Zutara a bit more Sizzy, Neck Kissing, POV Third Person, Romance, Tokyo (City), Vampire Bites, don't expect much from this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27913096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensweetheart/pseuds/heavensweetheart
Summary: (Shadowhunter Chronicles/ATLA Crossover.) Simon and Isabelle weren't the only ones having vampire-related moments during the chronology of City of Lost Souls...
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Daze

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recomment reading the tags before dipping into this fic, and also I know I said I post it yesterday, but something came up, and then I had a lot to post today, so I thought about doing it altogether.

Zuko stood in front of the window as Katara changed into one of his button-down shirts; he was more nervous than he expected to be. No, truly, he had foreseen his nervousness, he had only hoped he could contain it. He had been wrong.

Katara was quiet while undressing. Unbothered, relaxed. Zuko wondered if she had been… in a similar position before. Asking a boy to sleep with her, in her bed…

Their circumstances were different, though; not exactly normal. Of course, nothing in their lives was exactly normal. He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to contain the spinning inside his head.

His gaze got lost in the lights of Tokyo, they distracted him. He had been angry at his uncle Iroh when he deserted the Clave and renounced to Shadowhunters’ life, abandoning their family – abandoning _Zuko_ – but just this one time he was glad his uncle had picked an apartment with such a nice view.

Another addition to the awkwardness of the situation: he and Katara were going to sleep together at his uncle’s house.

Well, Zuko thought, it was the mildest of their problems.

His father was gaining new followers, more Nephilim willing to follow his orders of plainly eradicating all downworlders, emulating Valentine Morgenstern, and using Zuko to endorse that idea. _A vampire clan attacked him_ , Ozai had said, _they turned him. They took away my son._ He conveniently left out that he was the one who hired the vampire clan to do that, Zuko learned it from the clan leader.

He wondered if he should thank that High Warlock of Brooklyn – Magnus Bane – again for helping him figure that out. (Did that guy know _everyone_ in the Shadow World?) Mayhap he should wait until things had calmed down in New York as well; it seemed the entire world was falling apart.

And with reason! Not only was his father Head of the Tokyo Institute now, but Azula was also determined to beat Sebastian Morgenstern in his own game and… whatever it was that those two planned to do allying themselves with demons and only the Angel knows what else – (was Azula crazy? Demons _ate_ girls!) – and Aang was convinced the Silent Brothers in Tibet held something that could help beat one of those two, so he went out on a quest to find it by _himself_.

“This is a disaster,” Zuko murmured to the cold glass.

“You could say that again,” Katara’s voice was easy. “Okay, you can turn around now.”

He did and blushed immediately after. His white shirt fitted Katara like a dress that had been cut for someone smaller, the hem didn’t even reach her mid-thigh, her wide hips gave her legs a quite shapely form.

“Thanks for letting me borrow one of your shirts,” she said already approaching the bed and getting under the covers, “I left most of my clothes back at the Institute, we left kind of in a hurry.”

“Don’t… Don’t worry about that.”

It took him some long seconds to realize she was waiting for him to get in the bed too, and he rushed to comply. He didn’t change his clothes, only laid next to her in his shirt and jeans.

They remained like that for a moment. Katara was on her side, giving her back to Zuko until she turned, but pulling the sheet to hide as much of her face as possible.

“So…,” her voice filled the rays of moon and city lights inside the room, “you’ve been staying here with your uncle since you were turned?”

Zuko thought for a moment before answering.

“Yes. Despite everything, the vampire clan and I aren’t on the best terms yet.”

“It’s like the story of that _Daylighter_ from New York,” Katara’s face was fully shielded by the sheets now, “What was his name again?”

“Simon Lewis,” Zuko said, “Magnus told me.”

He expected another question. _Since when are you so knowledgeable in international Shadow World affairs? Since when are you friends with the High Warlock of Brooklyn?_ Katara said neither, she continued hidden under the covers like a little girl playing hide and seek. It was endearing, but it made Zuko wonder if it had been a good idea he had agreed to spend the night with her in the first place; maybe Katara didn’t feel that much comfortable with him after all.

He attempted to say something, readying himself to leave the bed.

“Are you sure you want…”

“Yes.” And in a blink, she was kissing him.

She pushed the covers away and herself up to straddle his legs. Zuko closed his eyes and reveled at the moment. He had kissed Katara in the past, he had always loved the way her mouth fitted with his, the shape of her full lips; but the more they kissed, the more he felt her lips pulse and tasted her skin, a mouth-watering hunger awakened in him and he started seeing red. Blood red.

He pulled away at the first pinch of his fangs coming out.

Katara’s eyes were big and surprised. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

That alone was difficult to pronounce with his fangs in the way. _Everything_ _was wrong_.

Her eyes widened some more, now in understanding. “Oh, you are hungry.”

Zuko didn’t know what to make of her tone. She had never seen him… like this.

“When was the last time you drank blood?”

“Yesterday,” he said, slightly easier with his fangs retreating slowly, albeit painfully.

“You should drink some more. Last time that you spent so long without feeding…”

“I don’t have any more blood,” he said crossly, “And I haven’t seen many street animals to feed myself in this part of the city.”

“Hey, you don’t have to go out to drink cold animal blood. I am here.”

Zuko stared at her in frozen shock. Though the idea made a strange energy course through him, a new hyperawareness lighted up his body.

“You don’t mean…”

“Yes, I do.”

She started undoing her shirt – Zuko’s shirt – until it fell down her delicate shoulders. Zuko seemed to see everything in slow motion; Katara pushed the shirt aside leaving herself in a white lace bra. Suddenly her skin looked darker but the round pendant of her necklace clearer, like a second moon, like Katara was the embodiment of the night.

Zuko’s mouth felt dry. “Katara…”

She brushed her hair over one of her shoulders, discovering her throat. “Go ahead.”

“Katara… I…” his fangs tore their way out once more. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Her question came at the time she surrounded Zuko’s neck with her arms. He could feel the heat of her skin clashing against his cold one, her vitality, and the blood pumping through her veins enveloping him. “You don’t want to?”

“Katara…” his voice was becoming hoarser, his throat tauter.

His fingers tightened around her arm, opposing impulses ripped him from the inside. He wanted – _needed_ to get away from Katara, before they did something they might regret; what he wanted the most was to lean forward and absorb her heat, inhale her essence of rainwater and night.

“Katara, I can’t,” he repeated, as clear yet inhuman as it could sound through gritted sharp teeth. “I can’t control myself. I can’t tell how much blood I drink, how deep I bite; I could kill you.”

Her eyes sparkled. Somehow they were also darker.

“You can control yourself. You did it with Sokka.”

“I wasn’t attracted to Sokka.”

“But you are attracted to _me_?” her playful smile was radiant. “That’s flattering! Still, you were starving when you bit him, you were _dying_ ,” an invisible shadow crossed her face, “and you dominated yourself.” 

“It’s not that simple,” Zuko had difficulty to even follow her words now. The scent of blood and skin was enveloping him, drugging him; he could see Katara trusting and calm, but everything else was a black, white, and red daze. The hunger was pulling him with metal strings to follow the beat of her heart, chase that life force he felt irradiating from her.

“But you can do it,” she persisted.

She touched his face then, his left profile that his father had burned with holy water to keep up his heroic charade. Her fingers glided down his cheek, his throat, and his chest; her palm settled in the place where his heart had once beaten. “I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t,” he answered. “I don’t deserve it.”

She pushed him back until he was lying on the mattress once again, this time with Katara above him. Her hair fell over one of her shoulders like a dark cascade, her eyes and the pendant of her necklace were real stars. Ethereal, immaterial light. Zuko couldn’t see his reflection beneath their glow; he wondered if that was what Katara saw when she looked at him: nothingness, inexistence.

“I’m the one that gets to judge that,” she countered. “I am the one that decides in who I put my trust, and I want it to be you.”

“Why?” His fangs retreated just as slowly as before.

The moonlight delineated Katara’s curves, it accentuated the pale scars from former runes on her dark skin. They appeared like minute cracks on a statue, fitting for Katara’s artistic beauty, however, she still possessed that human touch that told Zuko she was real and alive. _Alive_. He wanted to kiss her, so bad just lying still without touching her was torturous. Her sight made him feel like his heart could beat again.

“Because you trust me,” she brushed his hair bangs with her fingers to look better at his face. “You trusted me when you were turned. And you trust Aang, and Sokka, and Toph, and Suki; you trust all of us. And trust is paid with trust.”

“But I’m not worthy of none of you guys’ trust,” his words were simple, direct, “Just look at me, I wasn’t even that good of a Shadowhunter, such a dishonor that my own father tried to get rid of me. My sister wants me dead. Just like all vampires in Tokyo. I am nothing, to all of them.”

“You are something to me.”

The silence that followed was soft and tender, threaded with sincerity. 

Before either of them could speak again, they were kissing. His hands were burying in her hair and caressing her back, his fingertips drew the lines of her scars; they weren’t cracks in a statue, they were marks of courage and strength, proof of the warrior that she was. Katara was dainty yet fierce, her lips were delicate, but her skin was so hot it nearly burned Zuko. She was gasping against his mouth and moving in his arms, fitting her body with his. They rolled to the side and now she was under him, her hands coming under his shirt and her essence was wrapping him yet again, her lips were throbbing in his mouth, he could taste rainwater in them, salt, and… blood.

Zuko went rigid, his muscles vibrated with tension as his fangs came back.

Katara grabbed his shoulders. She looked vulnerable semi-undressed in the faint light.

“Go ahead.”

Zuko closed his eyes and buried his face in the curve of her neck, inhaling her. He could imagine the veins extending beneath.

“Katara…”

Her legs surrounded his waist, holding him there. “I want you to do it.”

“You’re not scared?”

“Yes,” she affirmed, “but I still want you to do it.”

“Katara…”

He bit her. His teeth cut smoothly through the sensitive flesh. The blood exploded inside his mouth.

There had only been few times when he drank human blood, when he had bitten Sokka it had been for saving his own life and he was barely conscious at that time; now he could register the emotions, the thrill. Katara gasped and held tighter onto him, arching her back. Zuko tasted the pheromones in her blood and incrusted his teeth deeper feeling how her blood filled him in ways he never felt before. The heat trespassed from Katara’s veins to his, as if her heart was trying to reach him. Katara dug her nails in his shoulders and dragged them down over and over again, urging him.

Zuko obeyed and drank more, consuming the warmth he had craved. Katara’s heart was beating against his chest and for a moment it felt like it was his own heart; their breaths mixed forming the only sound in Zuko’s ears, and for a moment it felt as if he was alive again.

He pulled away. Before he could stop himself, he took his teeth out and rolled to the side. His chest heaved, he was seeing the room through a prism, everything was surreally glowing and vibrant as the blood human and alive he just drank.

He repeated Katara’s name breathlessly, with fear of looking at her. Of what he might see in her eyes with the lights and that otherworldly excitement gone.

“You didn’t stop me,” he observed.

“I didn’t want to,” she replied. He did look at her then, she was breathing heavily, too, her gaze lost into the ceiling. “And I didn’t need to.”

There were two dark spots on her neck, the wounds of Zuko’s bite. Two thin strings of blood flowed from them down her neck. An unknown instinct took over him, he leaned in and licked the blood from her throat.

Katara shivered. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!! And if you'd like to know ways to help me keep writing, please, please, PLEASE, see the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com


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